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Weymouth High School 





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Added February 17, 1988 CI»»No.. 974.47 


Anthor Weymouth High School 

Title Year book 


3 1648 00232 6782 

The Year Book 

WER 974.47 WEY 1 


Weymouth High 

S c hoo 1 / Tec. h n i c a I 



White Burgoyne 




Editorial Board 

Editor-in-Chief .... Ralph Talbot 
Business Manager - - - Kenneth Martin 
Associate Editors - - Julian Rea, Roger Burgoyne 

Class Editors 

Arthur White, '16, LeRoy Cope, '16, Wallace Whittle, '17 

The Editorial Staff of this, our first year book, present the pro- 
duct of their efforts to a host of teachers, classmates and friends. 

We have tried to do our work well. We have tried to deserve 
the pleasure of your commendation. And yet, whether the result 
be success or failure, we will always have this volume, — a golden 
treasury of the deeds of our class. When memory fades, it will 
still remain. And in the end, this alone will be the lasting result 
— that through these pages, we may sometimes look back, and 
smile at our sorrows, and laugh at our joys, and grow better in 
the memory of our happy days, and closer in the knowledge of 
our glorious class. 


Class of 1915 



Dance Committee 4, Operetta 3, Class Play 4. 

The pleasure is entirely ours, kind 
reader, in presenting this, the first and 
perhaps the finest picture in the Senior 
Hall of Fame. Perhaps May is known 
to you ; if she is not, kindly remember 
that what we say here cannot do her 
justice. To know her is to like her, 
which truth is deducted from the fact 
that wherever May is known she is well 
liked. But gently now ! Sarcasm is 
born of sympathy ! And May has one 
If you would know what it is, collar the "hero" of the 

class play some night and ask him about it. 


" EDDIE " 

Class Prophet, Orchestra 3, 4; Football 4, Baseball 4, 
Basketball 3, Track 4. 

As a proof that you shouldn't judge 
by appearances, we offer herewith our 
one and only Rufus Edward Bates, who 
isn't so green as his hayseed expression 
would lead you to believe. Eddie is a 
good boy, but early in life he experi- 
enced a violent attachment — to a Ford, 
and since that time has never been with- 
out the required shoe horn. It is re- 
lated of Eddie that he would run almost 

as far to play ball as his Ford would run on its reputation — but 
that's only hearsay. We believe there's another part to that "at- 
tachment" story, too. Why else should Eddie be seen up Mill 
Street so often ? 


Class President, Basketball Manager 4, Class Play. 
Track 4, Class Basketball 2, 3, 4. 

When the "bigger, better, busier" 
class first assembled, it chose for its 
president and leading citizen, one Regi- 
nald W. Bates, whom you see here. 
And better man there never was, we 
must say, when it comes to ruling with 
the firm hand and open heart. Reggie 
needs no recommendation. We could 
give him none more fitting and proper 
than to say that in all his class there is 
not one who is not glad that he has been our president, nor one 
who would not like to see him make good wherever the opportunity 
may be afforded him to do so. 




Banquet Committee, Ch. 4, Orchestra 4, Year Book 4. 

It was only under high pressure that 
the physiognomy of Roger could be 
brought to a place on this paper. After 
the first exposure, the photographer 
changed his cracked lens, injected a 
high pressure plate of " steen " pounds 
into his camera and intimated that he 
would sue for damages. Thus, the high 
pressure. But, listen ! Soft strains of 
sad music ! Roger is a musical man, 
and he plays the violin. Those glasses, 
that hair, believe, O credulous reader, that they stand for some- 
thing. Roger thinks he resembles — Paderwhiskey ! 


Baseball Mascot 2, 3, 4. 

Speaking about men, let us consider 
the gentleman whose visage protrudes 
itself upon this otherwise good looking 
page. Pimp is without doubt the 
smallest Senior in existence. If any- 
one else tried to fill his place in the 
Senior class, though, he'd find it a bit 
difficult. Not in stature, not in power, 
but in the hearts of his fellow students, 
is Larry big. We believe he has done 
what no other boy of his size has done before — and we are proud 
of him. The Lord bless thee, Larry ! 


Class Basketball 4. Baseball 4. 

The Rookey dropped into the Senior 
class in 1914, and from all accounts of 
the teachers has been dropping ever 
since. Every now and then we behold 
him surrounded by the admirers (of his 
brother) and discoursing on "How to 
Play Shortstop." Rookey plays short- 
stop, you know, and the teachers say 
that when it comes to studies he's pretty 
clever at it. He's clever at a good many 
things, is our Rookey, and attracts attention — of the girls. We 
hesitate here at enumerating his many conquests of femininity, 
for this is only a book. But, after all, here's luck to you, Cal- 
lahan ! 




Dance Committee 4, Football 2, 3, 4, Capt.; Basketball 
2, 3, 4, Capt. ; Baseball 2. 3, 4. 

In the unequal pursuit of studies 
Connie came to school in 1910. At the 
very outset he fell so far behind as to 
let his studies gain one lap on him in 
the race. Then Connie settled down to 
show that in the atmosphere of a " big- 
ger, better, busier" class he could create 
a mark. And never has anyone suc- 
ceeded better in his purpose. For Connie 
has not only succeeded in the way of 
studies, but has been captain both of football and basketball, a 
pitcher and fielder on the nine, and has held many offices of the 
class besides. Everything to which he has turned his hand has 
been a success. We wish him success in the greater things. 


Dance Committee 4, Operetta 3. 

Anyone who has hitherto been blessed 
with a sound digestion had better turn 
over this page and linger no longer here. 
For Helen is the bright, particular star 
of the cooking class. In attempting to 
describe her to you, the plummet of our 
imagination cannot sink one-half so far 
into the well of thought as one of Helen's 
biscuits could into the Atlantic Ocean. 
Helen has also a side line in the way of 
reciting history, but only a side line, 
you know. Her main point is A D 


Vice-President, Class Marshal, Dance Committee 4, 
Pin Committee 3, Football 2, 8, 4 ; Basketball 2, 3, 4, Capt . 

Almon has one of those personalities 
which lead you to understand wherein 
he so easily graces the vice-president's 
chair. Throughout his four years he 
has thrived in the admiration of his fel- 
lows, even though he professes to enjoy 
his vacations in the dead haunts of 
Fort Point. For his good work on the 
football field and basketball court, 
Deane deserves much credit. 


n6rman dizer 

" NORM " 

Class Secretary, Vice- Pres. Union 4, Orchestra 4, De- 
bate 4. 

Norman's footprints, as he tells us, 
were heard approaching our august 
abode in September, 1911. Since that 
time they have fallen so loudly upon our 
ears at times, as to attract attention — 
notably when Norm was elected Class 
Secretary and when his confident voice 
dispelled the doubt of debate with 
Quincy and Brockton. The lure of the 
filthy lucre could not ensnare our own 
Norman even when he worked for Georgy Bean. His honesty is 
sterling, although Clarke does call him "Geezer." 

guileless classmate, she. 


Banquet Committee 4. 

Modesty and righteous endeavor are 
traits of Miss Catherine. Although 
she is not prominent, occasional glances 
in her direction will reveal the fact that 
she has a character, and we honestly say, 
a lovely character of her own. Always 
kind and cheerful, always industrious 
in a quiet way, we have found many 
virtues about her and have yet to find a 
fault. In every condition and phase of 
living, striving for the right — a modest 


Baseball 2, 3, 4, Capt; Class Basketball 2, 3, 4; Track 4. 

Stop, kind reader ! Forbear to con- 
demn this page because of this counten- 
ance which you see here Give us a 
chance ; and Hope is all we want. This 
fair haired child is no less wonderful 
because he is captain of the nine. Hope 
has been "varsity" second-baseman for 
three years, and at present is the pilot 
of the (state's champion) nine. Vin- 
cent is Hope, and we predict that in a 
few years he will be the hope of some 
baseball he will surely go up. 


fast college team. In 

This is not the Alice of whom the 
poet sang: 44 Alice, where art thou?" 
In fact, one always knows that Alice 
may be found in the vicinity of another 
Alice, with Elsie and Teresa tacked on. 
Alice's forte is enjoying youth and life, 
at which she excels. On the other 
hand, she has been seen at meetings of 
the Monday Club, being a special dele- 
gate of her class. As for our above 
verse, we may say that Alice surely has 
a place in the hearts of her classmates, 
and we have no doubt but that she will enjoy a similar position 
when she enters the broader school of life. 


" Bink," " Spikey," Bluejacket." 

The 44 Spikey Bluejacket" is one of 
those 4 silent voice ' members of our 
bigger, better, busier class, who will 
make his mark. At present he is one 
of the most esteemed fellows in the 
class, of whose affection his many nick- 
names are proof. But, hist ! There is 
mystery involved here ! As the story 
goes, one night Bink, accompanied by a 
beautiful vision of femininity, attended a 
presentation of 4 Ben Hur.' Ever after- 
wards, Bink has maintained that he saw no chariot race in the 
play. We don't doubt your word, Bink ! But how could you? 


« CHA " 

Two years ago Miss Horan gained 
the distinction of a standing among us. 
At first, considering past environment, 
it seemed doubtful whether she would 
ever rise to our high level. But the plot 
thickened ! There is an old proverb : 
44 When man and woman are agreed, 
what can the Kazi do?" So when all 
the class agreed on Loretta, — but she's 
glad of it ! 



Orchestra 3, 4. Dance Committee 4. 

Within this narrow space we must 
attempt to convey a slight impression 
of our admiration as a class for our 
Majorie. But we cannot express our 
esteem in proper measure. Nor can we 
express our gratitude. For acknowledge 
we must, that she has worked hard for 
us. Of all the guests at our senior 
dance, credit is due her for one-sixth. 
She is the life of the orchestra, and 
more than once has rendered inestimable 
service to the school in a musical way. Whatever way in which 
she goes in the future, we wish her good luck. 


v 41 


Cla«s Treasurer, Salutatonan, Operetta 3 Dance Com 
mittee 4. 

2§B&k*-' St. ' While Avis was a freshman and a 

W Br ^Mf : I sophomore she wasn't taken into account 

S*'^ because she was so small. Today those 

^^^t- who were her superior contemporaries 

^BP^H have become her eager admirers, for 
dBr <fl Avis, you know, now leads them all ! 

v^MT^ A good many pay their attentions to 

Avis, and a good many more pay their 
class dues to her. To be both Treasured 
— 1 and Treasurer of our class, and to be 
Salutatoriau at the same time, surely 
requires that which places her so high among us ! Our one re- 
gret is that she never spoke a little louder. 


Class Play 

Even were it not for her cheery 
smile, our ''Ever Merry" classmate 
would have a lot to recommend her to 
you. In the first place, Elsie has talent 
and is especially bright, which truth any 
teacher will bear out. Also she has the 
gift of making friends. Her past is a 
measure of sunlight ; her future we will 
leave to the class prophet. And if care- 
free joyousness is next to godliness, as 
we believe, Elsie is but little lower than 
the angels. 



Banquet Committee 4. 

This is Mary ! We shall not introduce 
the lamb. Quite contrary, for the lamb 
is gone, you know. Today we see the 
smile that once was on the poor lamb's 
brow on Mary's face, so know ye now, 
ye critics, wherein the lamb has gone. 
This good jingo poem does no justice to 
Mary — 3nd is untrue. Mary, though 
not boisterous, is gentle, quiet and 
good ; so we wish her a life of the same 



Dance Committee fch), Debate, Class Play, Secretary 
"Union," Year Book. 

Ye blocks, ye stones, ye worse than 
senselesss things, pass not this benig- 
nant contenance by. Here is Kenneth. 
Kenneth is our angel, our joy. His 
ability, surpassing all things mortal, has 
been exploited. Debate, class-work, 
year book, class play — these are monu- 
uments to his fame. Our boy is growing 
up. We see him now, glancing at this, 
our august work, bouncing in his chair, 
and clawing at the air. Now he holds up that (visionary) solid 
brass debating medal which he has designed. What is it? "O 
yes, I made this out of my own head." 

dorothy McCarthy 

Class Play, Operetta 3. 

A noise was once evidenced in that 
particular part of our sphere of exist- 
ence known as the "orffus." Inquiry 
developed the fact that it was our Doro- 
thy — switching Mr. Hilton. She had 
him dead to rights, and before assist- 
ance could be brought she plugged him 

ai twice, right in the ear. It was orful ! 
' And then she cut him — off. Such is a 

fact, for Dot is an operator at the 
'change. And since you will be obliged to explain this at length, 
we extend our friendship (and sympathy) to you, Dorothy. 



Class Prophet, Senior Delegate to O. C. Club. 

"Most beauteous night, thou wert 
not sent for slumber," was a prevalent 
belief in the region of Nash's Corner one 
evening away back in '97. For Miss 
Teresa Nolan, it is recorded, began 
breathing and bursting into song at the 
same time. Ever since then she has 
made more or less noise — more with 
her desk cover up, less with it down. 
But even if she is to be Class Prophet 
we risk the danger of verbal assault to 
say this, and yet she has our hearty friendship and good wishes. 


Shortly after Page was ushered into 
terrestrial existence he fell out of his 
cradle and thereby contracted a dislike 
for works of all kinds. Secretly he has 
treated this malady, first by entensive 
diet, and then by an excess of sleep. 
Finally he has resolved to humor it as a 
necessary evil. Yet Page has redeem- 
ing qualities, and is a man for a' that. 
Wherever he goes, whatever he does, 
our class will always remember him. 
Godspeed ! 


Alithea is one cf those living proofs 
of the fact that you don't have to be 
well known to be in with the teachers. 
Ouly a short time ago Miss Alithea 
came from Dorchester, well recom- 
mended, and famed by her alleged ca- 
reer in the New England Preservatory 
of Music. Listen! Ah, the "G" 
string ! More gentle than the harp, 
more retiring than the lost chord, es- 
teemed by many, courted by — Sh ! We 
use the soft pedal, Alithea. 



" BILL " 
Football 4. Class basketball 3, 4. 

As a boy Bill had all the ear marks of 
the really great, but nevertheless, this 
young man of gingerbread glory, re- 
ceived no fame. Bill had red hair, and 
not being acquainted with us, he seldom 
was able to borrow enough to have his 
locks shorn. Thus were his ear marks 
obscured. But after a few close shaves, 
Bill blossomed forth in brilliancy, the 
star of the eleven. He was a fine, 
plunging halfback. Hit the line hard, Bill, tackle low, keep that 
" redded " of yours, cool, and you will gain Life's distance. 



Class Historian, Debating Team Manager, Tieasurer 
Union, Year Book. 

Judy has not improved since he be- 
came one of us ; he has only developed. 
What he is, and what he is to be, is 
only what he has been — for he always 
has been as good and as fine as he is 
now. He has done great things — as 
his record alone signifies — but they do 
not make him any better. They couldn't. 
For Judy is always the same, and always 
will be the same, a friend and comrade to all. 


Class Basketball 2, 3, 4, Baseball 4. 

It is related of Len that he drifted 
ashore one night in '97, when there was 
a high tide along the coast. At first it 
seems unbelieveable, — but, thine ear, 
O reader ! Len is a shark ! The fish} 7 
way in which he slips over his " stenog " 
will make you believe that, and as for 
his 'hooking' manner — ask Leo Frair- 
hair ! But seriously, Len has the ease 
of a master in stenography, and his 
success has come with endeavor — which 
makes success more sweet. And yet he is a " shark" — or was, 
one rainy night down 'by the Back river smelting grounds ! 




Miss Magna Cum Laude Sylvester, 
whom you see here, shines with so bright 
a light as to dazzle the eyes of the 
teachers. While some are burning the 
midnight oil in their (Ford ) touring cars, 
she is keeping alight the lamp of her 
intellect. And now she leads us all ! 
Perhaps not for popularity, nor the 
gaiety will she be known, — but ever 
for sincerity, honesty, sympathy, and 
her industry and righteousness alto- 


" DICK " 

Class Pin Committee, chairman; Class Oral or, Clas9 
Ode, Debate, Capt. ; Track 1 2, 3. 4, Capt. ; President 
of Union, School Paper 1, 2, 3; Year Book, Editor-in- 
chief, 4; Baseball 3, 4; Football 2, 3, 4 ; Class Basket- 
ball 1, 2, 3, 4. 

We have before us a man young in 
years, but old in thought. He is the 
orator of his class and many are the 
novel orations that he has made in the 
class room. They say he is some ball 
player, especially in handing out alibis 
to his team mates. Wherever you see 
him, in the school corridor, on the ath- 
letic field or in the class room, he is always kicking something 
or somebody. He likes to talk and his fellow class mates believe 
that he will be a second Henry Clay. Dick, old boy, you should 
make your mark in the world, but you may feel assured that you 
have our best wishes for the prosperous years which must follow 


Class Play, Pin Committee. 

It is rather hard to write about our 
little Evelyn, because she is at school so 
seldom that we don't know much about 
her. And when she is here she doesn't 
make her presence known because her 
voice is very, very soft and she moves 
like a fairy. Of course you know M A 
C is a florist and you see she is always 
amongst the flowers. But when it comes 
to Latin, she is the star of the class, — 
and her pies are delicious, so M A C 
tells us. We don't blame MAC for liking our classmate and 
friend. Workingmen like good things to eat. We wish you, 
Evelyn, the happiest of times of your life in the future, but please 
don't forget your class of 1915. 


Good luck, Alice. 


This young woman of the golden 
glow has a still more golden smile. Not 
that we mean to infer that her smile is 
golden because her teeth are. We might 
just as well say she has an English ac- 
cent because she bought her teeth in 
London. But we refer to her hair. 
Miss Alice's idea in life is to "thart 
thomething " — in a quiet way. Ask 
her where she was going one fair Spring 
morning down in the vicinity of Norton 
Street. And you'll thart thomething. 


» BOB" 

Orc hestra 2, 3, 4; Track 4; Baseball 2, 3, 4; Music, 

Class Ode; Football, Mgr. ; Banquet Committee. |H 

Behold Bob ! Residents in the region ^ 
of Jackson Square assert that he can ^ 
create as much discord as any profes- H 
sional musician. But his fingers touch 
not piano strings alone. Nay, ye critics, 
rather are they on school and class 
work, baseball, football, track and other ]JKk 
things. Although we have the beauty, Ttf^'l 
Bob seems to be the one to get his name 1 
in the papers, especially when he pub- 
lishes his two-steps. And musical? Why he's first bass on the 
ball team, plays the cornet, and has a so-lo part in his studies. 
For you, Bob, we wish great success. 

Class Data 


President, Reginald Bates Vice-President, Almon Deane 

Secretary, Norman Dizer Treasurer, Avis Loud 

Cast of Class Play 

May Allen Elsie Maertins Dorothy McCarthy 

Clark Page Kenneth Martin Reginald Bates 

Evelyn Tibbets 

Graduation Speakers 
Salutatory, Avis Loud Valedictory, Olive Sylvester 

Orator, Ralph Talbot Historian, Julian Rea 

Prophets, Teresa Nolan, Edward Bates 


The present year has been a notable success. Its Senior class 
has reflected much renown upon itself by honors worthily won. 
No other class can show more creditable record. It has been the 
leader in spirit and activity, and what is more, it has progressed 
to the point where its members are bound to each other by more 
than the common tie of friendship. That alone means class 

And now, as we, the class, approach the end of that enviable 
highway of years known as " high school life," it is only right 
that we should look back and contemplate what we have done. 
Past deeds and experiences return to us, to make those remem- 
brances more than idle dreams. 

In fear that some of you might judge us by our honor students, 
we admit that we have but one — or by our brilliance in routine 
studies, we admit that we have none. " Life," as a Western 
proverb goes, " ain't in playing a good hand straight, but in 
playing a poor hand well." And even though we have no mar- 
velous honor list, we are confident that we have played our poor 
hand well. 

To begin with, our class is unsurpassed in the field of student 
endeavor. It won its interclass and interscholastic debates, the 
first, by the way, ever held in the history of the school. In this 
volume, it presents the first school year book of all time to the 
public. For the first time it formed an association, the u Union," 
to promote general student interests. For the first time, its " W " 
men enjoyed a banquet. Nor is that all — in everything social it 
was successful. 

And the interest in, and the success of, athletics were far 
greater than they ever have been within our memory. Our foot- 
ball team won every game but one. For the first time a track 
team was organized and a trophy won. Our baseball team is 
generally considered to be one of the best, and is a just claimant 
of the State title. 

So, in both student activities and in athletics our record is one 
which must appeal to the popular mind as a lasting and brilliant 
one. And wherever our classmates go, we are sure to be drawn 
together by the cord of memory which shall remind us that every- 
thing we did, we did sincerely, and everything we did sincerely, 
we did well. 



HE door of the long, white ward changed from a 
rectangle of white to one of sunlight, letting in a 
white-clad, professional looking surgeon, and a more 
sombrely dressed elderly man. They came down 
by the rows of cots, each with its covered form. 

Houghton could see them from where he lay, but 
he could not comprehend. Instead of true figures, 
blurred shapes defined their outlines. Between them 
was a stretch of space filled with what seemed to be crowding, 
winged figures, some going up and some going down. Houghton 
lay and watched them ; it was all that he had to do. He watched 
them continually, day and night, only at night they seemed to be 
not white-clad forms, but golden sands, running, running fast. 
Once in a while, during the day, they would mass together and 
take a different form and color, and then he knew someone was 

"Houghton! Major!" He could hear them cry, and the 
sound would go ringing down to his inner consciousness, echo- 
ing, — "major — 'ajor — 'ajor !" just as he used to hear the oven 
bird, at home, with its 64 Teacher — eacher — eacher !" He stirred 

" Houghton ! " 

He stared about and heard the voice close at hand ; then he 
saw a splotch of white at his elbow, dimly, while the mist was 
clearing. He gained complete consciousness for the first time in 
a week, and saw briefly but clearly. 

He tried to speak, but couldn't ; he tried to call " Father," but 
something snapped and he was back again with the eternally 
passing figures. Dimly he tried to think. So he had come? 
What he hnd hoped for, had longed for, had happened. The 
sense of joy quite banished the whirling of his head and he be- 
came quiet. The words came faintly, but distinctly through the 

" My son ! " Then, instead of a caress, he saw the tall man 
by the side of the bed stiffen, and Houghton, exhausted, lay back 
and closed his eyes. He felt the man stir from his long gaze at 
the pale face, lay aside his hat, softly draw up a chair and sit 

The figures began to move again as soon as Houghton closed 
his eyes, and as he watched them, he tried to find out what long- 
ing was stirring within him. What was it? Some hopeless thing 
that lay on his breast ; his lips moved feebly and the man bent 
down to catch the word : 

" Mother " 

u She is well. Mrs. Houghton is well," he added, correcting 

The words came without the slightest color. Houghton lay 
back again. Slowly the gray blurred, turned to swarming, white, 
winged shapes which went continually up and down. The only 
apparent sound was a low murmur from the other end of the 
ward. It droned on and on. Would it never stop? He 
couldn't — 


44 Major, I want you to come home." 

A wasted, quivering hand drew the coverlet closer around him. 
It was his own, although he did not realize it ; he gave no other 
sign. Softly, the drifting forms, snow white, like petals, rose 
and fell. 

"Come home — come home — come home" rang like a refrain 
through his mind, drowning out everything else. It was not until 
it had died distantly away that he heard and realized that the 
broken voice had been going on. 

44 — and you can't flght any more, Major. You'll die if you're 
left here, away from home. Come, say you'll come and we'll 
forgive and forget. It was a hard blow when you went riding 
off — to fight. That's all over with. Come home — " 

Home — home — home; a refrain went with each pure figure, 
floating camly up. 

fc4 — -only say that you'll come, that you'll take off this — blue, 
and I'll take you far away — Jimmy — where the blue grass 
grows — God's country — and you can sit all day in the sun. 
There'll be no pain there, Jimmy. Only mother, and Rose. All 
day you can sit among the rhododendrons and be happy, and at 
night, beneath the great, starry sky. No pain, no sorrow there — 
it's home, Jim, and I want you and mother wants you. 

44 We've differed, but it's time to forget. Say you'll come ; 
you must see you're wrong, fighting against your own people. 
You've got to allow something to their spirit of liberty. Can't 
you give it up, Jim ? " 

44 Mother, does she " 

44 She follows me in the right; they all do, Jim. All but you. 
We see the right — more than those up north, for we have lived 
at home so long that we know more about it than they do. We 
see — " 

44 1 did'nt, father—" 

44 You will. Wait till you're home. You'll see. Only say you 
will come. Say it." 

At the end of this passionate plea, Houghton's vision blurred 
once more, and the figures rose and fell. But this time they were 
not white-winged, — but blossoms, — rhododendrons, a whole hill- 
side of them, and they nodded and swayed in the breeze. They 
danced merrily, — they stretched out their petals, nodding towards 
him, as they used to in his youth. The stalks swayed gently and 
the snow-white blossoms seemed whiter and purer than he had 
ever seen before, — each one calling, calling — and were gone. 
Each one had turned to a star ; a great opalescent, shining star, 
glowing through the wilderness of blue. He could see them, feel 
them, — he felt as if he could reach out and touch them, and he 
thought he heard them making a kind of stately music. No, — 
they were breathing around him, their great hearts pulsing in the 
gloom. A white star, — and blue — . He went floating away in 
his dream to that last great fight, seeing over again the surging 
lines of gray coming on, — always on, — never faltering. Day and 
night, and yet a little farther, always a little farther, — until, 
there was the old flag, — a star, and blue — . 

He tried to struggle to speak one word, and then he felt his 
father lean down, and barely saw the great hope in his face. 
Continued on Page, 35 

Solomon Was Not Like This 

HE lure of the filthy lucre, and the facination of the 
bloated aristocrat were upon us. Nothing could 
dispel them. Ged could talk familiarly of camp 
as long as he wanted to. Bob could recall the old 
days. But it wouldn't go. Somehow we couldn't 
live it down. 

Leon was the only one who made any progress ; 
when he came running in from the library and beheld 
Lee in the act of leading the chorus : 

Adieu, adieu, adieu dear friend, adieu! 
I can no longer stay with you. 
I'll hang my harp on a weeping willow tree 
And may the world go well with thee ! 
he was captivated, and accepted Lee at his face worth. That 
chorus, though, was kind of flat. Ged and Bob sang, but the 
rest of us sat open eyed watching Lee as he thumped on the 
table. You could have popped an egg into Percy's mouth and 
he'd never have known the difference. And Walter was so ab- 
sorbed that he forgot to fight with Johnny for the pudding. 

I think that Lee felt it most of all. He felt that he wasn't 
one of us. For one thing we stared at him. Somehow we 
couldn't get the fact out our minds that he was a modern Midas 
with a million in his own name. Lure can't describe it ; fascin- 
ation can't describe it. We ogled him wherever he went, and we 
couldn't help it. 

The first night we all slept in the big tent. Ged suggested this 
(Walter protesting) and I think that he suggested it with the 
intention of having a good time. But we silently sat around 
instead of fooling around. The general good old time was not 

When we undressed, we admired not our visitor's knitted torso 
(this was the usual thing) but we looked at his gold tooth, — and 
estimated its cost. When we awoke in the morning, instead of 
starting things, we looked to see if the stranger snored with his 
mouth open. He did, — ah, there it was, with more fascination 
for us than has the snake's eye for the bird. And Lee, lolling on 
his bed, looked just right for a good old pillow socking — but, 
oh, the tooth ! Like a good many women (I tell this with ex- 
ceptions) if he'd only known enough to keep his mouth shut, 
he'd have a peach of a time. 

After breakfast Ged and Lee drove Mr. Wernicke to the 
depot. As soon as the carriage was out of sight there was 
hair pulled. For an hour carnage lasted. Then Dan appeared 
again, drawing the surrey back over the hill, and the dissipation 

As soon as we could we got out the wickets and had a game 
of cricket. Cricket is the favorite game with all of us, except 
Walter. We toss up for sides, fight an hour over who must take 
the field, and then look to 'find that Ned has taken our wickets to 
make wooden swords with. We went through this program on 
this morning, except that we did not fight. We formed even 
sides, with Percy left over. But he did not seem to mind on this 


morning. Instead, sitting down at a nearby elm, he held Neddy 
near him, and every time that Lee laughed, he pointed excitedly 
and shouted "There it is." 

It would be impossible to understand this game unless you know 
something of a real game. Then you can contrast the two. 

In a real game we get excited. In a real game the conversa- 
tion goes something like this : 

Walter: — "You crazy fool, Hound-dog, bowl it up, you, bowl it 
up ; hey, hey, kick it off, kick it off ; stop ! Hound-dog ! Stop ! 
Leave it go! Heer me? You heer me, Johnny, leave it alone." 

Ged : — "Come on ! Come on ! Give it t'me ! Here? Quick !" 

John: — "Run, you, you bonehead ! Beat it! Run! Come 
on ! Another one ! Come on !" 

Bob : — "Drive it here, Charlie ; O you crazy idiot, drive it here ! 
Hey ! Hey ! Cut it out ! Cut it out ! I say no ! No ! Come 
on with it !" 

And it usually ends with : — "There, you dirty, low-down crook, 
you've lost the game. I'd like to knock — the face offayou." 
Before tbis happens, though, Walter gets down in the dirt and 
grovels on his knees, mingling tears with the dust Charley 
makes a driving mis-shot, taking Ged in the knee, and since he 
can't resist, and won't complain, he dances about in agony. 
Johnny places an honest, but mis-directed left foot, while hunt- 
ing for the ball, through the coldfrnme window, and Leon runs 
off with the bat. Who wins is never certain, for the losers, 
taunted (by Walter) would renew the conflict with the one idea 
of beating their opponents into insensibility with a brickbat. It 
is a fine game. 

But this game was all that it should not be. A good game is 
based on a fight and carried through with a fight, but this game, 
as Ged said, was based on fair play and dedicated to the propo- 
sition that all cricket players are created peaceful. Such a con- 
test cannot endure. 

Toward the end of the game Bob came down and joined the 
squad. Now no place will suit Bob on a cricket field better than 
right behind the bat. You can pick a fight there pretty easily. 
But Bob picked no fight this day. 

Lee bowled just one ball. That started it ! Just about when 
it should have reached the wicket it struck a pebble and, jumping 
upwards, struck Bob with full force right in the stomach. He 
clasped his hands to the spot, spun around, shrieked and ran 
towards the house. 

Today and every day when I think of that day, the scene rises 
as clear as morning sunlight to my eyes. We were all thunder- 
struck. Percy forgot to say "There it is" when Lee's mouth 
opened in surprise. Bob's cry of anguish had been genuine, and 
* it turned our sunny sky to ashes. We gazed for a silent moment, 
during which no one spoke, at the door through which he had 
taken his flight. Then a glove thumped on the ground. We 
turned — Lee had thrown himself full length, and was sobbing as 
if his heart would break. His head was buried in his arms and 
we thought he was dying. Ged said "What's the matter Lee?" 
ant tried to make him raise his head. He wouldn't, but continued 
right on sobbing. We never knew that a potentate could cry like 
that. It made him human. It impressed us with his better 


qualities, and what was more, we opened our hearts to him and 
made him one of us. In answer to Ged's plea, Lee set up a sob- 
bing undertone. 

"I'm-m going h-home. Yes — I am ! N-nobody likes me but 
you, Ged, 'n now I've gone and killed Bob — O O-O-O-o-o-" 

It was heart touching ; yes it was, and it was strong in its 
dramatic qualities, for just then Leon ran up with a little mite of 
a snuffing white pig. All we could hear him cry was "Chardy 
gabe it to me ! Chardy gabe it to me !" and he burst through the 
circle and thrust it between his arms and head- Lee didn't know 
what it was ; he only closed his hands over it and rocked in a 
a frenzy of despair. 

We laid down and wept with laughter— even Ged joined in, as 
did Bob, who had returned, at the expense or risk of hurting 
their guest's feelings. 

The pig had nestled close up to Lee and was going "snoof ! 
snoof !" while it ran its pink nose over Lee's tearstained counten- 
ance. At first the tears went right on, but as soon as he heard 
our cry, he raised himself up into a sitting position, like the dying 

Then he saw the pig. Bewildered, he looked around and 
beheld us lolling. First a smile — just like Lee — and then a sheep- 
ish grin, and then Lee was laughing with more mirth than the 
rest of us. Leon rescued his pig and went off addressing terms 
of endearment to the animal, which he called by the name 

We were all mollified ; Lee thought no more of going home, and 
the lure of the filthy lucre and the fascination of the bloated aris- 
tocrat were no more. We christened Lee Abbott "Buster." 

When some men are hit by misfortune, — they quit ; 

And some deplore fate with a cry. 
But men who are right in the thick of the fight, 

Will try, and will try, and will try. 


Class of 1916 

REATER than former Junior classes in size, ibe class 
of nineteen-sixteen has aspired to gain fame more 
enduring, by becoming greater than all former classes 
in matter of importance. Progress is its by-word, 
leadership its goal. 

Its first and leading member, the sublimely smiling 
Frank Rand, its trio of debaters, White, Sargent and 
Ruso ; its football hero, Clark ; its baseball leader, 
Condrick ; and its many stars of the first magnitude in the field 
of scholarship ; all bear promise for the future as they have won 
renown in the past. 

In every branch of student activity has the class of nineteen- 
fifteen become fitted to follow in the footsteps of its predecessors 
and lead the spirit of the school. The past with its honorable 
record bears witness to this fact. 

But more than the past, does the class cherish the future. 
Progress is its by- word. In 1916 the spirit of the school shall be 
as great and as powerful as the sons of '16 can make it. And 
the present augurs fair. 

In the first place, laurels already won in the way of studies will 
be supplemented by new emblems. Since the class is the largest 
in the school's history, it intends to set a new record in the num- 
ber of honor students. The recently organized Union will be 
carried on. An intershcolastic league for debate will be formed. 
The old dramatic association will be revived. Under the tutelage 
of those who have already received some experience, a monthly 
magazine may be published, and the Year Book issued. Watch 
for progress. It will be a synonym for nineteen-sixteen. 

And now to go back, in closing, the class thanks the teachers 
who have furnished it with such a strong basis for achievement. 
With hope for the future, and with content in the past, it will 
follow its destiny, secure in the knowledge that some day it will 
find fitting welcome by the side of those graduates who have gone 
from, but have not forgotten the school they love. 


School Notes 

HE year now ending has been a remarkable one in 
many ways. New fields have been entered with suc- 
cess. Old ones have been explored with increased 

Of the former, progress has been most marked in 
the way of literary work. The Weymouth High 
School Union, a small, but none the less deserving or- 
ganization, has been formed. For a time it stimu- 
tated interest and will surely be continued. 

A domestic science class was conducted by Miss Cowan and 
it has given the girls a new, but familiar subject to work with. 
The class attended the Food Fair in Boston in the Fall, and later 
held one of their own with success. 

A note of appreciation must here be inserted for a single stu- 
dent, Frank L. Vender, who, in his own way, has reflected most 
honor upon his class and school. The two-step of which he is 
composer, is well known and well liked all over Massachusetts. 
It is entitled the W. H. S. March and is dedicated to the school. 

On February 16th, a banquet for "W" men was held in the 
school library. Athletes from college, club and school addressed 
the boys. 

Ex-Representative John F. Dwyer gave an excellent lecture on 
"The Massachusetts Legislature" before the Union A few more 
such fine speeches would have benefited the school. 

The new appearance of an old custom was made during the 
basket-ball season, when a cheering section was begun. With its 
quick, snappy cheers and songs, it instilled spirit into the team. 

The custom of holding interclass debates was carried forward 
by the Senior-Junior debate on the equal suffrage question. The 
Seniors were represented by Martin, Dizer and Talbot, and the 
Juniors by White, Sargent and Ruso. The former won. 

Two dances were held this year ; and one, the Senior dance, 
netted more in proportion to the size of the class than any other 
dance ever held. The Athletic Association dance was conducted 
entirely by the girls. 

Mr. James Calderwood has done more for the school than can 
be estimated. The orchestra, under his sterling leadership, fur- 
nished music for the Athletic Association dance. 

Mention must be made here of the illness of one our faculty, 
Mr. Cosgrove. Although not strictly a school event, his misfor- 
tune was the consternation of a good many. We feel that his 
nervous breakdown was the result in part, of his hard, persistent 
efforts iu behalf of the school. He has the sympathy of all. 

Scholastic honors for the year were won by nineteen stu- 
dents out of a school of three hundred. The importance of 
these honors is seldom made clear To win them one must be 
perfect in preparation and recitation each day and every day for 
a term of two months. The list : (numbers indicate number of 
terms — Sept. to May) 

Class of 1915 — Reginald Bates 1, Avis Loud 1, Kenneth Martin 2, Olive Sylvester 3. 

Class of 1916— Fred Abel 2, Ruth Ford 4, Mildred French 1, Dorothy Hainan 4, Agnes 
Lyons 2, Arthur White 4. 

Class of 1917 — Velma Abbott 2, Napoleon Bergeron 4. Malcolm Canterbury 3, Marion 
Howe 3, Wallace Whittle 3. 

Class of 1918— Evelyn Bergeron 4, Alice Fulton 2, Francis Sprague 1, Arthur William- 
son 1. 


The Boy with a Bump 

HE medal in the high school all-around contest was 
won by William X. He can turn handsprings like 
a clown, can skate and ride, and is the fastest 
runner in the village. And the other evening, down 
in a restaurant at Washington Square, he beat the 
crowd eating boiled eggs ! Yes, and William can 
sing and is beginning to play the piano. He intends 
to join the Weymouth Landing Brass Band next fall. 
Will is bright, he learns easily, and has a quick, active body. 
He is enthusiastic and open-hearted, and almost every one likes 
him. Most of his friends expect to be proud of him some day, 
but some are uneasy. 

There is a bump on William's head. The magician says a 
bump just there indicates conceit. Perhaps he is right, but if 
that bump were high enough to indicate all of William's conceit 
his hat would never get within a foot of his ears. But it is not 
the bump that makes William's friends uneasy. 

Will craves attention — he is fairly thirsty for it. He wants 
people to watch him and listen to him all the time and, above all, 
to marvel at him. He would rather display his ability than use it. 

Even this does not alarm his friends very much. They remem- 
ber that they once, too, loved to be seen and heard and admired 
— probably do yet. It is natural for a boy to want to show 
people what he can do. 

But here is the thing that makes his friends uneasy about 
William's future. It does not seem to matter to him what sort of 
attention he gets or how he gets it. Apparently he is just as well 
pleased when people laugh at him for making a monkey of himself 
as he is when they cheer him for his prowess on the baseball field. 
If Will cannot get a group or people to watch him in any other 
way, he turns himself into a clown, or " cut-up," and wins their 
attention, even if unfavorable. And he seems just as glad to be 
admired by loafers and semi-toughs as to be esteemed by people 
of worth and judgment. 

Therein is his danger. He has not learned to discriminate 
between that interest and attention which means genuine respect 
and esteem, and the sort which may be given to a calf with two 
heads. He has not learned that the praise of one man may mean 
honor, and the praise of another dishonor. As yet he does not 
choose between the real and the seeming, the true and the false, 
the good and the bad. 

Will's great danger, unless he learns to discriminate, is in the 
natural human proneness to choose the easier. The only sort of 
attention and praise worth while is that won by real ability devel- 
oped and trained until it can do something well, and a genuine 
kindness of heart which makes one sympathetically helpful. This 
sort of attention is hard to win. It takes real worth and patient 

But the road to leadership among the careless, the worthless, 
the toughs, is much easier and shorter for a bright fellow like 
Will. He can win their praise and get their following without 
much work or effort. And if he does not learn the danger of 
this sort of popularity his friends fear his egotism will lead him 


to seek leadership among those on the wrong side of the danger 

It is barely possible that some of our readers have William 
bumps on their heads. It might be well to take a good look and 
see if your bump is of that sort ; or if it is one that desires only 
praise won in a worthy way. 

Fred Abel, 1916. 

Nature's Way 

I knew not why the flowers died ; 

But now I know 
Life is a flower, magnified — 

And it must go. 

I knew not why the winter came ; 

But now I know — 
Age, in the end, is just the same ; 

And we must grow. 

Then look upon the life about ; 

Though late the day — 
Wring all of nature's secrets out, 

And find the way. 

And You to whom in sanctity 

We raise our eyes, 
Ye set for me and all of mine — 

Your sacrifice. 

Ye made for everything a guide, 

Along the way. 
Ye would not judge if in our pride 

We went astray? 


Alumni Notes 

ECESSARILY the alumni of a school must increase 
with the years, and it is with pleasure that we hear 
of the deeds of our ever increasing body of gradu- 
ates, spread far and wide over the earth. 

From the middle West comes a report of the work 
of George Baker, '11, who is now enjoying a sopho- 
more scholarship at Iowa University. In addition to 
this, Baker is the mainstay of the track team, run- 
ning in the mile and two-mile events in the Middle Conference 

Leon Marsh, '10 (Tech, '14), is doing good work in Con- 

Norman Loud, '11, and Francis Carroll, '11, are both to be 
graduated from Harvard this month. 

Valparaiso University, Indiana, holds two ambitious Weymouth 
lads, Leo Madden, '12, and Urban Nolan, '13. They are making 

Robert Brassil Fitzgerald, '12, is president of the sophomore 
class at Boston College this year. Also he is an associate editor 
of the Stylus, the college magazine. 

In a freshman class of 400 members at Dartmouth College Emil 
Rosnell, '14, ranks tenth in the matter of studies. 

The part of Polonius in "Hamlet" was admirably played by 
William Duffy, '10, at the Boston College theatricals during the 
Christmas recess. A play, The Modern Miss," by Duffy, was 
recently staged in Salem High School. 

The business manager of our paper of last year, John Dizer, 
'13, was appointed to the editorial staff of the M. A. C. college 
monthly after a selective competition. 

A scholarship in the Senior class at Wellesley was recently won 
by Miss Ruth Bradford, '11. 

Robert Alvord, '10, is a student at Yale. 

The Commissary Department of the United States government 
at Washington, D. C, is furnishing Ralph Curtin, '12, with an 
excellent position. 

Gerald Fitzgerald, '12, is on the editorial board of the Boston 
College Stylus. 

Miss Nina Quinn, '12, is now residing in St. Louis. 

Stuart Vinal, '11, graduates from Amherst Agricultural College 
this year. 

Albert Bennett, '11 (Pratt Institute, '13), is foreman of a large 
manufactory in Canada. 

Of last year's class four members, Loring Tirrell, Parker 
Whittle, Leo Fraher and Harold Gloster, are taking post graduate 

Richard Lyons, '13, formerly of the University of Maine, and 
Fred Philbrick, '13, are studying at Tech. 

Harry Granger, ex-' 15, is enrolled at Phillips Andover Acad- 
emy, and Sherman Lowell, ex-'15, at Mercersburg Academy. 

Miss Heartz, a former French teacher here, was one of the few 
who passed an examination in Paris held for French instructors 
of the very highest class. Miss Chase is at a girl's high school in 
Boston and Miss Duffey is teaching in Chelsea. 


Weymouth High School Debating Team 

A glance over the list of student activities at Weymouth High 
School this year, reveals an entirely new and interesting practice 
which has sprung up. Debating in interscholastic contests was 
entirely unknown in the school until 1915 ; its success, neverthe- 
less, has been remarkable. For Weymouth can justly claim the 
supremacy over other high schools south of Boston in debating, 
and can well be proud of her record. Without previous experience 
in this important art, without aid, and almost without knowledge 
of its actual practice, Weymouth defeated both Brockton and 
Quincy in regular contests. The value of these victories is en- 
hanced, when it is understood that these schools have years of 
experience behind them, and that Brockton has defeated both 
Milton and Bridgewater this year. 

Early in the year Kenneth Martin '15, Norman Dizer '15 and 
Ralph Talbot '15, were chosen to represent Weymouth upon the 
platform. After consideration, a debate at Quincy and a debate 
with Brockton at Weymouth were arranged. The subject was 
44 Resolved: that the Philippines be granted their immediate in- 
dependence," and in both Weymouth took the negative. A period 
of preparation followed, and then on the evening of April 7th, 
1915, Weymouth entered its first interscholastic debate in the 
lecture hall at Quincy. The team was victorious. 

A few days later, Brockton was also defeated, this time at 
Weymouth. In both contests it was apparent that our own team 
was well balanced, and as good in argument as in delivery. Yet 
both affairs were so close and interesting, that the conquerers and 
the conquered felt that debates between the schools might be 
continued with success. To this end a league is to be organized, 
which will carry on the work, which our boys began. 



It seems that the year book would not he complete unless 
attention were called to the remarkable success attained by the 
Weymouth High School in athletics this year. 

At the beginning of the athletic year we started with the foot- 
ball team which lost only one game out of the eleven scheduled. 
Its success may be attributed to the ability of Mr. Whittemore, 
the untiring efforts of the players and their constant attendance 
at practice. Let us hope that the coming season in football will 
be even more successful. We realize that we have a harder 
schedule and that we shall have to make greater efforts. Every 
boy of any size in the school ought to show his school spirit and 
come out for practice every day during the football season. Only 
in this way shall Weymouth attain greater success than in our 
previous football season. 

The next sport in which Weymouth received renown was in 
track. In the B. A. A. school-boy meet, we succeeded in beat- 
ing Quincy and Wakefield. It was particularly pleasing to the 
student body to hear that we had overcome our old rival Quincy, 
especially since the student body of the latter school numbers 
over three times as much as our own. Not content with this 
success, we had the pleasure of winning a beautiful shield by 
defeating Hingham and Braintree in a series of triangular meets, 
Weymouth scoring more points than the combined score of the 
other two schools. Although track is a sport in which we are 
just starting, our start is one which ought to encourage us to 
make it one of our major sports. 

In basketball, with a schedule including the strongest teams in 
the state, no victory was appreciated more than the one over 
another of our South Shore rivals, Brockton. Even though this 
is a sport which does not seem to appeal to many of our boys, 
let every one who has any degree of skill in this department come 
out and help Captain Whittle make a team of which Weymouth 
will be proud. 


At the present time we have not finished our baseball season. 
However, if we continne the season without being defeated, we 
seem sure to be awarded the State Championship in this sport. 
This is particularly gratifying to us because we have played many 
schools who have many times our student body in numbers, and, 
without doubt, a harder schedule has never beeu played in the 
annals of the school. We have defeated among others Brockton 
High, Medford, Boston College High, Tufts College 2nd, and 
Newton, all considered among the first teams of the State. 

We should surely be ungrateful if we did not acknowledge our 
gratitude to Mr. Carl Loud for the many afternoons he has spent 
teaching our boys how to play the game. We must also thank 
the boys who have been willing to give up their afternoons to the 
hard practice sessions which have been necessary to place us at 
the top in school-boy circles in the State. 

In conclusion we now have a high school of whose achievements 
in athletics we are justly proud. Wherever we go we shall be 
eager to tell far and wide that we come from the Weymouth High 

John W. Cosgrove, Jr. 

"W" Men 

Football : Captain Condrick, Manager Vender, R. E. Bates, 
Tirrell, P. Whittle, Talbot, Palmer, Hughes, Newton, Dean, 
Clark, Rand, Borlenghi, Havilaud, Zwecker, W. Whittle. Bas- 
ketball : Captain Condrick, Manager R. W. Bates, Mahoney, 
Dwyer, Richardson, W. Whittle, Dean, P. Whittle. Baseball 
(1914) : Captain Fraher, Gorman, Gloster, Vender, Talbot, 
Mauro, L. Callahan, C. Condrick. Relay : Captain Talbot, 
Vender, Gorman, Clark, Hiatt. u W's " for debate were awarded 
Martin, Dizer and Talbot. 

Baseball Record to June 1, 1915 

Weymouth 16, Hingham 2. 

1, Rindge Tech. 4. 
" 4, Milton 1. 

3, Newton 2. 

1, Brookline 2. 

8, Dedham 0. 
" 5, Cambridge Latin 0. 

" 3, Mech. Arts 5. 

Weymouth 10, Medford 2. 

" 4, Rockland 0. 

" 17, Quincy 0. 

" 2, Boston College High 0. 

" 9, Quincy 7. 

" 2, Brockton 1. 

" 5, Tufts 2d 4. 

Football — 1914 

Oct. 2. Weymouth 6 ; South Boston 0. 

44 5. Weymouth 51 ; Saugus 0. 

44 14. Weymouth 24 ; Dedham 0. 

44 16. f Weymouth0; Hingham 0. 

4 4 2 1 . Weymouth 34 : Watertown 0. 

44 30. Weymouth 39 ; Abington 0. 
Nov. 6. Weymouth 13 ; Hingham 0. 

44 13. Weymouth 27; Abington 0. 

44 20. Milton 19 ; Weymouth 6. 

44 26. Weymouth 0; Alumni 0. 

Baseball Coach 


Corridor Echoes 

At Our Jokes. 
" He who laughs last is an Englishman." 

In Miss Curtis's Case (Extract) : " Yet he who would reach 
the heights, must deep down go." 

According to Miss Keith : " He disappeared into the wind." 

Not Today, Mr. Cosgrove : "Is anyone present who is not 
here ? " 

Now, Say! Miss Curtis, correcting sentences at the board — 
" What verb do you want, Francis? You have 'flees' ! " 

In the New Editions : Miss Curtis — M Now, who knows who 
the author of Caesar's Gallic Wars was? " Soph — u Bennett." 

Rix's Dilemma : Translation — ' ' I cannot — no — I cannot — 
er — er — I can't." Miss Thomas — " I wouldn't ! Sit down ! " 

Gibson. '18, diligently looking around the floor. Mr. C. asks 
him what he's looking for. Third party murmurs, " Brains." 
Mr. C. — "You'd better get a microscope, Gibson." 

Miss Cunningham — " Dunn, why is the dairy industry so great 
in Holland ? " Dunn — " Because there are so many cows there." 

"... insignis stat sonipes . . ." Vender — "There 
stood the embroidered horse." 

"Have you a good subject to talk about?" Gorman — 
"No(s) Soeur!" 

"... Callahan passes . . ." — Gazette. Come on, 
Looie, it was only opened for a nickel. 

Sub-ed. — " I don't like your idea of asking me to take this 
stuff to the printer." Editor— " Why not?" Sub-ed.— " Yon 
carry your jokes too far." 

Another Lie Nailed: Mr. Hilton — "No, and I never slept 
in a stable." 

"Keep away from Tobey, he's got a contagion." "How's 
that?" " Never mind. It's pretty catching." 

Original Copy of a Speech at the " W " Banquet : "I'm 
very glad to be here tonight. I didn't expect to say anything. 
We had a great season. Look forward to next year." 

Must Be on Its Last Legs: Freshman — "I hope my note- 
book doesn't run out." 

Tous les duex roides morts 
Both the two stiffs dead. 



Continued from Page 16 

" Father — I can't go — not from the old flag." 
A head lay near his arm, and he tried to put out his wan hand 
to stroke it, while great sobs racked the small cot. 
" Father, do you curse — me ? " 
" No, I bless you my son ! " 
" — and mother, — will she — ? " 
44 She will always love — ! " 

He drifted away, and felt the last caress imprinted on his fore- 
head no more than as if it had only touched the coverlet. After 
a while the gray receded into the sunlight and was gone. P'or a 
long time he lay still with a smile on his lips as he watched. He 
was drifting, drifting, happily along with the white-winged, flock- 
ing figures. He knew where they were going. Home — home — 
home ; he watched them, and blessed as he watched. The sun- 
light dimmed, paled, and vanished, and in its place came night. 
With darkness came the sands, golden, downflowing. Where 
were they going? Home? Yes, into the sea. Yet it was never 
full. How strange ! Countless thoughts occurred to him, one of 
them that iiome was indefinite, boundless. Then he tried to count 
the flowing sands — and slept. 

Once more the door of the ward chauged from a rectangle of 
white to one of sunshine, but Houghton couldn't sense the change. 
The figures were flowing faster now, and how changed ! Now 
they went up — always up ! And what a sound of grief was with 
them. He listened. At first he couldn't make it out, and then 
he heard several soft sobs. A tear stole down his coverlet and he 
looked at it, wondering. 

It seemed natural that she should be there, beside his bedside. 
He had always dreamed of her as tending and caressing him, but 
never sobbing, as she was now. Then, softly : 


That was all she said, and he closed his eyes. 

All the figures were of her, now. She smiled and called him, 
and then went on. She was white and pure, — that was right. 
Now she danced around him, calling in her sweet voice. Now 
she was sad and cried and walked sadly away. He tried to follow 
her but couldn't. He cried out. A soldier, a leader of men, and 
powerless! What was it she was saying? Others love and are 
loved ! And home ! Then she went far away and he couldn't 
follow. He felt the hot tears, each one a star. What was it she 
called ? 

" Come home ! " 

He heard her say that there was no pain there. No, but the 
grass was blue, and there were stars. He couldn't forget. Her 
heart was gray. Yes, but his blood was blue, and as for the 
star. What was it? He couldn't think. 

Oh yes, a star ! Oue had just gone out of the sky. Like a 
light on the hillside it had been blown out. And the line of 
figures had paled from white to golden sands, and there was a 

In his dream he thought he saw them watching 'round his bed- 
side. Greater men than he, — but no younger. Great men 


gathered to* see hiui mustered out. Mustered out ! He could 
hear the roll and see the colors. So young and a soldier ! He, 
a soldier, Major Houghton at twenty, and passing out ! 

Houghton knew that in the long stretches of the night, life and 
resistance fought for being, and the men whispered: "He is 
going!" But gray paled into sunshine and they said: "He is 
still alive. That's all ! " 

Houghton did not care, he could not, and yet he knew when 
morning came, for the figures began flocking swiftly. He was 
being mustered out ! A bugle call sounded and the military roll 
of drums ! The ward murmured ! 

Twenty-one shots ! The ward murmured again ! 

The door of the ward became sunlight again, and this time 
he saw the surgeon stand by : 

"Attention! The President of the United States!" Some- 
thing leaped within him ; the chord that others bad failed to touch. 

There outside the door, with morning sunlight streaming into 
the room over square, gaunt shoulders, stood Abraham Lincoln. 
Houghton saw him distinctly, as he ungracefully entered and 
came down the aisle behind the surgeon. Then he fell back. 

A voice deep with all the suffering, with all the care and sorrow 
of a mighty nation spoke : 

" This, the man? " 

He saw the surgeon nod. 

"So young, — and a major?" questioned the gentle voice. 
" This the man who held Fort Haskell?" 

Gently he felt the great, gaunt President seat himself at the 
head of the cot, and place his hat upon the floor. As he leaned 
over, a tawdry necktie, much awry, dangled above his head, and 
he dimly saw the dust that was on the figure of the man. Gently 
as a woman, he felt the President take his wasted, colorless hand 
in his own sinewy one of iron strength. 

Houghton tried to smile in spite of his suffering, to answer the 
great President's sad smile ; he tried to whisper his name, and a 

In tones as soft as the drowsy murmur of pines, the President 
spoke, and the sounds came flooding clear through to his 

" My boy, — it is you and not I who are worthy of that blessing, 
for I am but God's humble instrument in the cause for which you 

Then, in a few words the man told him that he had heard of 
his brave deeds, how proud he was of his fellow man, and that 
one so young and brave could not die. 

As he finished, Houghton tried to smile, but it was only a sad 
wisp of a smile, so he answered bravely : 

"The judge -ments of the Lord are — " And finished it with 
his eyes. 

At his own poor, toneless voice, he saw the President wince, 
and looked up to see "No hope" on the surgeon's lips. He couldn't 
do any more than lie there and watch his leader. 

Straightening on his feet, the President flung his long, lank 
arms upwards, and a cry of deep anguish burst from his heart. 

" Oh, this war ! This awful, awful war ! " he sobbed. 


Hot, blinding tears burned their way down the great man's 
homely, kindly face, as he tenderly leaned over the pillow. 

In response, Houghton whispered: "Mr. President! — God 
knows that you — are good ; for, 'a good man — out of the treasures 
of his heart — bringeth forth good; — for, of the abundance — of 
the heart — the mouth speaketh.' " 

Now, unrestrained tears ran down the great, kind face, streak- 
ing the dust laden countenance, and staining the snowy white 
sheets at his side. Then, while the nurses and surgeons watched 
round, Abraham Lincoln leaned down, and taking the palid face 
in his hands, kissed it just below the damp, tangled hair. 

"My boy," he said, brokenly, "you must live! You must 

A warm flame leaped through Houghton, and he felt the first 
thrill of warm, throbbing life; and he smiled, although, he knew 
that it must have been wanly, and tried to keep the suffering from 
his eyes. Then he dragged a hand to his forehead, the nearest 
he could come to a salute, and the President bent to catch the 
faint, faint words : 

" I intend to, sir." 

The rectangle which was the door changed, this time from sun- 
light to bright white, aud the dark eyes that had looked on the 
shadow, turned bright with new, returning life, and banished their 
suffering and care. 

Life is a series of flights, 

Some high, some low ! 
Yet he who would reach the heights. 

Must deep down go ! 


Minot P. Garey 


Notary Public Justice of the Peace 

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